The Final Countdown
by Sun-Tsu Toriden
Summary: Every game of chess begins with a clear board. Every war begins with preparations. Every story has the little moments that came before, that shape the story and its players. As the Reaper war looms closer, Wednesday Shepard (nee Addams) and her crew prepare the galaxy for the fight of its, and everyone's, lives.
1. Diverging Paths

Wednesday looked at Tali, Garrus, Legion and Grunt one last time as they stood at the spaceport. The Clansmeet was over, with Wednesday acknowledged as the _de facto_ head of the clan. She had given each clan member their assignments to prepare for the coming war, and the aliens with her now were no different. They watched in silence as a black corvette descended into a berth, forgoing useless conversation. All the words had already been said.

The corvette's airlock doors opened and a familiar face, or faceplate rather, stepped onto the gangway.

"Shepard, good to see you again. Tali, looking as lovely as ever," Kal'Reegar said with an implied smile. "Garrus, Grunt, Legion," he said with an acknowledging nod to the others. Tali strode forward and shook the other quarian's hand, Wednesday following suit.  
>"I see you've been working on my ship," Tali said, pointing to the new weapon emplacements visible on the profile of <em>Wednesday's Child<em>.  
>"Figured you wouldn't mind," Kal replied. "Besides, was there ever a time when more gun wasn't helpful?"<br>"None that I can think of," Garrus said.

"So, how is everything through the Veil?" Wednesday asked. To anyone else, it would be taken as a friendly enquiry. They all knew that she was really asking for a deeper tactical assessment of geth and quarian readiness for the coming war. Kal'Reegar, as a highly-placed military officer, was able to give her much more accurate intelligence than the Admirals, given his no-nonsense attitude and lack of an ego to stroke.  
>"Fine, for the most part," Kal replied neutrally. "We tend to keep to ourselves, but there are a few places where the geth have really come in handy on Rannoch. Helping us with the infrastructure refitting, getting industrial plants running, hell, even helping us get the agriculture restarted. There's even been talk of them accelerating our immune system acclimation, but that's nothing but talk for the moment."<br>"Yes, Legion's been keeping me informed of that as well, though it's good to get independent confirmation," Wednesday said with a gesture to the geth platform.  
>"First lesson of intelligence, always get independent confirmation where possible," Garrus added approvingly.<p>

"Anyway, much though I'd love to stay and chat, I've got places to be and a VIP to escort," Kal said seriously. He turned to Tali and bowed his head, before extending his arm towards _Wednesday's_ _Child_. "After you, Admiral."  
>"Wait, what?" Tali asked, nonplussed. She turned to give Kal a look, and Legion turned as well, curious.<br>"Oh, didn't you get the news?" Kal said, and you could hear the mischievous grin in his tone.  
>"No, I didn't," Tali said dangerously, her hands crossing over her chest. "Please enlighten me."<br>"This should be good," Garrus whispered to Wednesday.  
>"Well, the Conclave, in what is probably a first for those bickering children, voted by a landslide majority to fill the open position on the Admiralty board. So, let me be the first to congratulate you, Admiral Tali'Zorah," Kal said, finishing with a crisp, if sassy, salute.<p>

Tali hadn't moved a muscle, and Kal was starting to get worried, before she burst out laughing. Wednesday and Garrus weren't too far behind.  
>"Uh, did I miss something?" Kal asked, dropping the salute.<br>"No, just that the quarians have unwittingly just done us a massive favour," Wednesday answered as her laughter subsided. "Don't worry, it'll be a good thing… eventually."  
>"Somehow, that doesn't fill me with confidence," Kal replied. "But, time marches on, so we better get moving Admiral. After you," he gestured again.<br>"Just remember what needs to be done Tali," Garrus called after her. "And don't forget to call!" Tali just gave a crude gesture in the turian's direction as she, Legion and Kal went up the gangway to the airlock. Wednesday, Garrus and Grunt just watched silently again as _Wednesday's Child_ undocked and flew into the sky.

"So, when is your flight leaving again Garrus?" Wednesday asked.  
>"Pretty soon. I better get moving." He turned to face Wednesday, looking at her face and thinking about the changes that had been made to both of them. He wouldn't have guessed two years ago that the human before him would so dramatically change his life, but she had, and he'd never regretted a single moment of it.<p>

Until now.

"You do realise what's going to happen, right?" he said in a long-suffering voice.  
>"Garrus, the moment I care about what your by-the-book father chides you with is the moment I tell Liara that I'm in charge in the bedroom from now on. There'll be a moment of laughter, and then there will be an education as to why things are the way they are."<br>"Wednesday, I'm not talking about my father, I can handle him. It's my sister that's got me worried!" Wednesday tilted her head for a moment, then adopted a falsely sympathetic face.  
>"My condolences. I do not envy you, because sisters are the absolute worst. I should know, I am one!" she finished with a teasing grin.<p>

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. See how you like it when I start introducing you as the mother of a krogan," he muttered darkly, but with a grin. He and Wednesday hugged, before he headed off towards his own transport. Wednesday just smiled as he went. During the Clansmeet, between Gomez and Morticia getting Grunt drunk (an impressive feat in and of itself) and a few choice anecdotes from Garrus and Tali, Grunt had finally decided that Wednesday was his mother, or as close as he was going to get in his situation. Liara had laughed at that, while Wednesday just shrugged and accepted the fact. She jerked her head at Grunt and the two of them walked to a different terminal in the spaceport.

"You got everything?" she asked, looking at the large pile of weapon cases he was taking with him.  
>"Had to leave the hammer at your place, wouldn't fit in my luggage," Grunt admitted.<br>"Just remember what Gomez and I taught you Grunt. A weapon you make with your own hands works better. You know the feel by instinct, you know how to use it better, to cause maximum damage with minimum effort. Besides, there's enough junk and rubble on Tuchanka to make a suitable weapon. Now, what's the first rule?"  
>"No evidence," he chimed, a child repeating a rote lesson.<br>"Good. Now, if anyone tries to give you a hard time, just remember what I taught you. Go for the weak points hard, fast and continuously until he's no longer a problem. If you want to get respect fast, talk to Wrex and get him to point out the biggest, loudest one. Beat him in front of everyone, and they'll respect you. Humiliate him and make it clear that you could have killed him, and even he'll respect you, eventually. And if you ever need help, I'm just a call away." With that, Wednesday handed him a box. He opened it eagerly to see that inside was an Addams QEC. He had been accepted into the family.

Grunt fitted the device to his omni-tool before gathering Wednesday in a full krogan-strength crushing hug – fortunately for all concerned, Wednesday was considerably tougher than the average human and did her best to crush him back. He put her on the ground again and smiled at her, causing a few small children nearby to cry at the sight of his tooth-filled maw.  
>"I love you mom. Thanks."<br>"You're my son Grunt, I'm not going to just send you out there without backup. Now, go out there, beat some idiots to a pulp, and make me proud." She watched as he boarded his own transport which would eventually take him to Tuchanka, a tear almost threatening to fall down her face. The two of them might not have the most conventional mother-son relationship, but that didn't mean that she felt it any less. Conventional was not the Addams way, anyway.

As she left the spaceport, she felt a sudden urge to be with Liara. _Must be the motherhood thing, stupid ovaries_, Wednesday thought to herself. Though that thought was soon subsided under the thoughts of what Liara had promised her last night. Maybe if she was a good girl and surprised her lover early, she'd break out the metal shackles for the rack.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Break out the booze and release the kraken, because I'm finally back, and with Wednesday!**

**I will only half apologise for the length of time between updates. Real life kicked me down and then back up, so it left me with little time to write, and even less of my muse willing to give me the time of day. I got fired and I got married, pick the excuse that feels best to you and go with it. **

**Quick note, this story will be more like Wednesday's Interlude that a proper story in and of itself. It will be a series of short, mostly self-contained ficlets that tie into the Wednesday-verse, filling out what all the minor and secondary characters are doing between Arrival and Invasion Day. Will you see more of the Addams herself? Possibly. **

**Yes, I'm working on the final installment of Wednesday's saga as well, but there is a lot of story that happens away from her immediate person, plenty of threads to set up, characters both pro- and antagonist to move to the proper place and time. **

**As a great wizard once said: 'The board is set, the pieces are moving.' Well, consider this setting the board. **

**Also Also, an honourable (or perhaps dishonourable) mention to viperblood123, DiamondDuge 419 and Konda020946 for harassing me on my honeymoon for more Wednesday. **

**Expect irregular updates. Reviews will certainly help make that irregularly fast, rather than irregularly slow.**


	2. Grunt

Grunt stepped out of the shuttle, his gear on a sled as he squinted in the harsh light of Tuchanka's sun, Aralakh. He'd been set down in Urdnot territory, so he made his way to see the shaman as his first stop. Grunt kept an eye out as he moved deeper into the bunker that sat at the heart of Urdnot territory, picking up a few promising pieces of metal as he went along. He eventually made his way to the Shaman, and the elder krogan greeted him enthusiastically.  
>"Grunt, welcome home brother. We will hear tell of your adventures soon enough, but first, you must be accommodated. Follow me." The two krogan moved into a different part of the bunker until they came to an unmarked door. Grunt entered first, finding it to be a small, spartan room with a bed, an extranet terminal, and enough space to store his various weapons.<p>

"You can store your things here. Others can tell you where to find the armoury and forgeworks, as well as the training fields. Now however, arm yourself as you wish and follow me. I suspect our leader wishes to welcome you himself."

Grunt smiled and pulled out his Claymore and an assault rifle, before following the older krogan to the central hall. Wrex was lounging on his throne, once again looking bored as another krogan whined at him. Grunt smiled wickedly to himself as he remembered the last time he had seen a similar scene. The memory of killing Uvenk at his Rite of Passage still made him smile.

As they approached the dais, Wrex looked over the hump of his brother Wreav, who was complaining about something or another. _Again_. Honestly, he'd tuned out the sound of Wreav's voice after the first five minutes, and he'd been going for nearly thirty now. Normally Wrex wouldn't have given him two, but as the former Chief Wreav still had a lot of support, so he had to humour his half-brother for now. But something more interesting was coming now, in the shape of Urdnot Grunt. Maybe he could kill two varren with a single shot.

"Grunt, welcome home," he said, nodding to the approaching krogan. Despite being young, the tank-bred was already larger than the average krogan. It was only his advanced age that kept Wrex himself bigger. Wrex was glad that he would be dead long before Grunt became a threat to him, because he knew that fully-grown, Grunt would be nigh-unstoppable. Wreav turned to the newcomer, recognising Wrex's slight for what it was and snarling.

Wrex was going to ruin them all. First, he'd wrested control from him and immediately started 'diplomacy' with other clans, some of whom had been enemies of Urdnot since before the salarians had ever found them. Then he sponsored the inclusion of this motherless, tank-bred product of Okeer's deranged mind into Urdnot. Now he had formed an elite company of krogan, named for their harsh sun, and he dared to not have him lead it! The final insult though was this, the deliberate snubbing to acknowledge this grunt's return, as if it held more weight than the issues he had come to talk with the Chief about. Wreav would not stand here and take it, and he knew that beating this faux-krogan was the easiest way to shore up his flagging support.

"You are not welcome here, and I do not recognise you as krogan, let alone Urdnot," Wreav growled menacingly. "You have no lineage to claim, no family to guide and follow you. It's time you learned that there are some things that should not be!" With that Wreav roared and charged the younger krogan.

For his part, Grunt did not mindlessly accept the challenge Wreav had presented, but used what Wednesday and Gomez had taught him. Even as the older krogan charged at him, Grunt watched and analysed. His mother and her father had taught him that when facing a larger opponent, it was best to know where to strike them effectively. A single shot at a weak point was worth more than a hundred wasted rounds. Wreav was also one of the few krogan who, by dint of age and genetics, was bigger than him, so the blue-eyed krogan stood his ground and looked closely as he was charged. He noted the various little tells in his stature, his gait, even his armour, and knew the best way to attack.

Wreav pulled out his shotgun as he charged at the still krogan, probably frozen with fear. He almost smiled to himself as he readied his arm to attack the younger krogan with a backhand, before his target suddenly wasn't there anymore. Wreav turned his left eye to see the younger krogan looking at him determinedly, before an armoured boot crashed into the back of his left knee, the one that was still healing after his last border skirmish. Falling involuntarily to the floor, he tried to resist as his shotgun was yanked out of his hands and the butt smashed into the weak points of his face. His vision clouded with the bloodrage, Wreav couldn't see but definitely felt as he was summarily disarmed and left helpless on the floor, before the unmistakable feeling of his shotgun's muzzle pressed against the soft part of his throat focused his attention once more. He looked up into blue eyes that held all the warmth of a steel dagger.

"I have a name, it's Urdnot Grunt. I have a mother, her name is Wednesday Shepard. The next time you insult either of them, I'll pull the trigger. Now, get out of my sight before I put you out of my misery, and take your toy with you." Grunt threw down the shotgun he had taken from Wreav, and turned his back on him, delivering the worst insult one krogan could deliver to another: that he though Wreav wasn't worth killing. As his rage fuelled him, Wreav overcame his pain and stood, shotgun once again in his hands as he tried to attack Grunt from behind. The younger krogan turned, batting the muzzle of Wreav's gun away as it fired and pressed the barrel of his own, much larger Claymore shotgun into Wreav's gut, right between the armoured plates. Not that they would have made a difference anyway, at that range.

"You aren't worth the ammo," Grunt said dismissively. "Don't make me reconsider." With that he smashed his head into Wreav's, the younger krogan staggering the elder a few paces. Wreav knew he had lost, but had to turn to Wrex to try and save what little face he could.  
>"You will just sit here and allow this?" he asked dangerously, trying to imply the political damage allowing Grunt to do this would cause. In truth though, this latest beating would only cement Wrex's position and further undermine his own. Wrex wasn't in the mood for his half-brother's shit, and called the bluff.<br>"I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire, Wreav. You got beaten fair, and you've heard his piece. He doesn't think you're worth killing, a sentiment we share. Go lick your wounds and try and think next time. The old ways are over, it's time to be new krogan." Wreav glared and left, leaving only Wrex, Grunt, the shaman and the impartial guards.

"Well, you've added to your legend now Grunt. Until me, Wreav had never been beaten. Now there's the two of us." He looked critically at Grunt, before coming to a decision. Grunt had just proven he could think, not just fight, and he was pretty sure it was his mother's influence showing there. Aralakh Company needed a leader, and though it would be unorthodox, Grunt might just be able to do it. He looked over to the shaman, who nodded his silent support, before he turned back to the younger krogan.

"Grunt, there's an opportunity I think would be perfect for you. The old ways of the krogan are holding us back, and we need new ideas to bring us forward. Well, that and to beat the shit out of the Reapers, but we'll get to that. One of the things we need to do is work together, to look past the feuds and boundaries that divided us as clans and work together as a single nation. To that end, I and several other clans have put worthy warriors into a single, elite unit: Aralakh Company.

"Until you got here, Wreav was complaining that I hadn't put him in charge, and a lot of people agreed with him. He was the biggest and almost undefeated, but he's stuck in the old ways. They need a leader who embodies the new ideals, and I can't think of anyone who fits that more than you. It'll be tough, I won't lie. These krogan aren't just going to roll over and accept you. You'll need to fight to earn their respect, their loyalty, to make them into your krannt." He looked over at the gleam in Grunt's eyes. "But somehow, I don't think that'll be a problem. You have three days before I throw you to the nathak, Grunt. I suggest you use them to get ready."  
>"Heh, heh, heh," Grunt laughed slowly, the challenge awaiting him lighting his eyes ablaze.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I love Grunt, he's such a fun character. And yes, Wednesday is totally his mom now. Doesn't matter about biology, she essentially birthed him and raised him, which is all he really needs. **

**And just for all of you, more Wreav-bashing, literally.**


	3. Garrus

Garrus wasn't sure exactly what to expect when he stepped back on Palaven. Would it be like a hero returning triumphant, a ray of sunlight hitting him just as he stepped foot on his homeworld? Or would it be more like that time on Omega, where he almost choked on the smell. When it happened though, he found himself feeling distinctly underwhelmed. Previously, returning to Palaven made him feel rejuvenated. Now though, it just felt like any other planet. Wednesday had been right, being part of the Clan changed you. Home wasn't a physical place anymore, home was people.

_Uh oh_, he thought to himself, _speaking of people_. He spied three turians coming towards him with distinct familiarity. The one on the left, tall proud and obviously older, was his biological father, Charkus Vakarian. Garrus still respected the man as a lifetime peace officer and now political power, but his time spent with Wednesday and her family had shorn him of the almost fearful respect he'd had of his progenitor. The one in the middle, looking resentful at needing to be in her scooter was his mother, Aniais. She looked a lot better than the last time he'd talked to her before he left for Omega. The signs of her Corpalis syndrome were obvious even at a distance, but whatever the salarians had cooked up this time had obviously done wonders for her. He was just thankful he'd been able to contribute in some way.

The one on the right was the one he'd been dreading though. Tall and thin, she looked every bit the lithe predator her race had evolved from. Her slit-pupil leaf-green eyes locked onto his, and that wasn't a grin forming on her face. Instead of the stately, even pace of his father, and the calculated speed of his mother's transport, Solana Vakarian increased her pace as the trio got closer. Garrus braced himself, but his Addams training was not really appropriate to prepare him as his sister's body suddenly glowed a malevolent purple – after all, she wasn't an Addams, and the usual clan greeting would probably kill her. One second, she was meters away from him, still time enough to defend himself. The next, she was literally within his long reach and landed a vicious punch to the scarred side of his face.

"Spirits, that hurt," Garrus said as he stepped back into a defensive stance.  
>"That was for leaving like you did, Garrus," Solana spat, eyes narrowed. Garrus subtly shifted as she moved again, ready for another punch. He was taken by surprise again as instead of another rage-enhanced blow, he was instead enveloped in a tight embrace by his sister. "And this is for what you did for mother," she whispered in his ear.<br>"Good to see you too Solana," Garrus said as they separated, as Charkus and Aniais to come up behind their daughter. Garrus offered Charkus a traditional greeting, while his mother would settle for no less than another embrace.

"Garrus, about time you came home," Charkus said. His voice was deep and gravelly, but there was an undeniable undercurrent of tenderness as he addressed his son.  
>"Well, I had to at some point. I finished that target practice."<br>"Indeed. Come on, let's not give your mother a chance to scold me for keeping you away from her," Charkus replied with a wry grin. Between the two males they carried all the equipment, while Aniais did what it seemed all mothers do in every family and talked until Garrus was sure his eardrums would burst. Starting, of course, with the most embarrassing questions.

"So Garrus, when are you going to give up this silly adventuring life you've been on for the last few years and find a nice girl and give me grandchildren to spoil? I'm not getting any younger you know."  
>"Mom, I haven't had a lot of time for women recently," Garrus replied with a long suffering sigh.<br>"What about that nice girl from when you were still in the Scout Fleet? What was her name again, I can't quite recall. Anyway, what about her?"  
>"Mom, she and I didn't work out. I mean yeah, we had great sex, but there's a limit to how far that can sustain a relationship," Garrus replied, hoping to shock his mother quiet for a few seconds. His hope was in vain, as she was his mother, and therefore immune to embarrassment from him.<br>"Oh I wouldn't say that dear. I mean, just look at you. You're the result of one of the biggest fights your father and I ever had. One of the longest marathon sex sessions too."

Garrus just rolled his eyes, also immune from sexual-based embarrassment after serving with Wednesday, to whom sex and death were just tools to be used: often and quite possibly in public. A look over towards his father found a mild colouring to his carapace, but it might have just been refraction. Solana just pantomimed gagging behind Aniais.  
>"Don't think I don't know what you and those gentlemen callers have been doing, Solana," Aniais said, proving once again that mother's vision wasn't just limited to their eyes. "I just wish you'd pick one for more than a few weeks, it's getting hard to keep track of their names and addresses when I find bits of their laundry in yours. Now, let's get home so I can take more pills than any turian in their right mind should, and we can have a family dinner." With that, they reached the aircar that Charkus had driven them in, piling Garrus' stuff into the luggage compartment and settling everyone in. As they drove and Aniais continued to alternate between interrogation and directing his life, Garrus shuddered as he imagined his mother teaming up with Morticia Addams, even before taking into account the latter's new side job as the Shadow Broker. The Galaxy would be theirs in a matter of weeks.<p>

* * *

><p>After the excitement of his return had lessened enough for Aniais to finally acquiesce and go to bed, and Solana promising a long talk between them later, Garrus followed Charkus into his father's study. Garrus remembered times from his childhood and early adult years, coming into this room to receive lessons from his father in a whole range of topics. This time though, he wasn't here as a student or a son, he was here as an adult, an equal. Charkus acknowledged this by signalling Garrus to sit in the chair beside him, rather than across from him over the desk. Garrus raised an eyebrow, but Charkus waved it away and gestured again.<p>

"Garrus, you're old enough, and I have no doubt experienced enough, to have earned that spot. Few have. Fedorian only gets to sit there because he's the Primarch, because to me he'll always be the greenest recruit in my squad." He waited until Garrus sat down before he reached into the desk and pulled out a bottle of turian brandy, along with a pair of glasses. After pouring them both a measure, he sat back and relaxed, taking a sip and savouring the taste, before he settled his eyes on the man that had become of his son.

"I'll cut right to the chase Garrus. I know about the Addams, and I know that you've joined the Clan."  
>"Can I ask how?" Garrus asked carefully.<br>"While the Blackwatch is the most visible of our special operations forces, that doesn't mean they are the most competent. Only a few know about it, but we've been watching the Addams clandestinely for a long time now. They probably know about it, just like we know they spy on us. On everyone really. You though, and that quarian girl Tali, you two are the first to ever be invited into the Clan, at least that we can figure." Garrus mulled it over for a while before he spoke again.

"So, what does this change? Between us, I mean?" Garrus asked.  
>"Garrus, I knew a long time ago that you couldn't live the life I did. You just had too much of an impetuous streak, too ready to take up arms against the wrongs and transgressions you saw. That passion made you great, but the attitude was never going to get you far in the meritocracy. I'll admit it; I pushed you, and smiled inside when you pushed back. I didn't anticipate you running into Wednesday like you did, but it's only made you better, Garrus. As for us, well, you'll always be my son. But I suspect that if you had to choose between me and the Clan, I'd find the Addams crest tattooed on your chest, wouldn't I?" Garrus just nodded and took another sip.<p>

"That's why you're on this side of the desk now, Garrus. I know you wouldn't have come back to Palaven on your own, that's just not you anymore. No, you came here with a mission, one from your new Commander I suspect."  
>"I don't know where you get your intelligence, but it's good," Garrus conceded with a sip of brandy.<br>"Garrus, when you get to my age, you get to know people and you can read them like a book. In the interests of educating you, it was a mix of the Addams intelligence and some interesting remarks from Tertius about Wednesday herself. And then there's this." Charkus finished by tapping a corner of the desk and a holographic projection came up, one Garrus recognised as the Reaper file Wednesday had compiled. Charkus waved through several files before he came to a weapon assessment of the Thanix cannon performance against the Collector ship.

"Garrus, I've been reading your writing since you were big enough to hold a crayon. If you think I can't recognise your style in these reports, then you severely underestimate me." Garrus chuckled as he swirled his drink.  
>"Alright, you got me, call me Garrus Addams-Vakarian. Now, you obviously know what I've been sent to do, so what are your plans?"<br>"Well, for starters, the next time Wednesday calls one her little get-togethers, you and I are tagging along. Then, once I've heard it from her, I'll make a call and get Fedorian moving on this."  
>"What about Tertius? Won't he try and block it?"<br>"Son, you're giving Tertius a little too much credit. Sure, he'll try and slow it down because of Wednesday and his dislike of Spectres, but I have something he doesn't." Garrus just raised a curious brow to get his father to continue. "Tertius didn't train Fedorian from a green recruit to officer in record time. The Primarch will listen to me, simply because when I yell jump, he still asks how high."

Garrus joined his father in a short chuckle, before the two of them began discussing the Reaper file, and the things it did and didn't say. It was long into the night before either of them noticed the time, and retreated to their beds.

* * *

><p>Garus woke up with a minor headache due to his drinking with his father the night before, one fortunately quickly dealt with simply by eating breakfast. Unfortunately for him, Charkus had left early to deliver Aniais to another treatment appointment, leaving him alone with his sister. As soon as she sat down, the look of angry concentration on her face told him he was not going to enjoy any part of what was about to happen.<p>

"Hey Sol. So, biotics huh? Bet that was a surprise," Garrus said in a desperate attempt to stave off his sibling's displeasure.  
>"Yeah, they only manifested after you disappeared, which we will be talking about, by the way, don't think you've gotten out from that. I'm not strong or reliable enough for the Cabals to be interested for military applications, but I did get a new implant and some training from the asari and humans. So, spill it Garrus," she said, giving him a pointed glare and even more demanding tone.<p>

"What in particular?" Garrus deflected.  
>"In the interest of completeness, why don't you start right about at the point you left us all a message that you were leaving for parts unknown and then proceed to disappear. Then, you keep going right up until the point where I punched you yesterday. I think that'll about cover it. Oh, and if you even think about leaving stuff out, I'll punch you again." She emphasised the threat by glowing biotically, her eyes and almost opaque white-purple colour. Despite facing more dire threats from Granny's cooking, Garrus rubbed the affected cheek from yesterday before sighing in defeat.<br>"Alright, alright, hold your fists. I told Wednesday this would happen."  
>"She sounds like a smart girl then," Sol said with a smile, which vanished as quickly as it came. "Now, start talking."<p>

With that Garrus launched into his tale, starting from his frustration at the corruption and complacency of C-SEC, which combined with his new outlook on life after Saren and training with the Addams, just wouldn't work. So he left, following the trail of organised crime back to Omega. He started alone and then formed a team to take the law back to the fight against the lawless. Then Sidonis had happened, and he'd been in a bad spot with little to no hope of survival. He'd called Charkus at the time, thinking it would be his last words to his family. Then Wednesday had turned up, and turned what had been a likely suicide mission into an almost-unbelievable rescue. After that, he never even considered turning her down when she asked him to join her for another suicide mission, this time against the Collectors.

After explaining what he'd achieved with Wednesday as they went against the latest Reaper scheme, he talked about the other missions they had done, including massively upgrading the _Normandy_ and the missions to Aite and Aratoht. He also mentioned feeling guilty about the conversation they'd had just before they took out the Collectors, and how he'd organised to get Aniais free treatment for her condition. Then, it was a final meeting with the Addams clan before coming back and getting punched in the face by his biotic and quite possibly unhinged sister.

"So, that's the story. Did I miss anything you desperately need to know?" Garrus asked.  
>"Well, there is one thing I feel you neglected to mention: what the heck is the deal between you and Tali?"<br>"Really Sol, that's the takeaway?" Garrus sputtered. "Not the Collectors being repurposed protheans, not blowing up an entire star system, not the fact that the Reapers are coming to make war on the entire galaxy, but Tali and I?"  
>"Garrus, war happens all the time. Love happens if you're lucky. So give me the goods dammit, or I'm liable to get punchy."<p>

"Spirits, what is it with you and punching me in the face now?" Garrus asked, moving back slightly. Sol feinted and Garrus pretended to flinch a little bit, earning him a chuckle from his sister. "Fine, Tali. Honestly, she's more like a sister to me, like Wednesday. Besides, she's pretty young, for all that she's an Admiral now. I really don't see either of us looking for an outlet in each other in the near future. That's before the fact that the only place either of us are going to be is the _Normandy_ in the coming war, and that's not exactly the cleanest of places for interspecies quarian sex, even if we wanted it. Are you happy now?" He looked at her contemplative expression and wondered what was going through her head. Solana tilted her head consideringly.  
>"Well, if you aren't interested… I call dibs."<p>

Solana laughed at her brother's spit take.  
>"Well, that was unexpected," Garrus said in a small voice.<br>"What, you've known about my quarian fascination for years," Sol said, her carapace starting to colour in embarrassment.  
>"Quarian fascination is one thing. Calling dibs on an Addams is another thing all together. You're either very brave, or very foolish, and I can't quite decide which it is. Nobody just calls dibs on the Addams, usually they are the ones calling dibs on you!"<br>"Hey, it sounded like it worked for Liara and Wednesday!" Solana pouted.  
>"That is an entirely different situation. I won't judge you, just warn you to be very careful, and you might want to step up your hand to hand combat skills."<br>"I'm not sure if that was helpful," Solana said.

"So, are we good sis?"  
>"Yeah, we're good bro. Though I'm not going to say you won't be getting punched again."<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Garrus has a sister, I don't. But I have heard from reliable sources that they can make your life hell when they want to. **

**Also, I totally did not see Solana having an interest in Tali. Though it should definitely make things interesting, for me if no-one else.**


	4. Tali and Legion

"Admiral Zorah, welcome to Rannoch," a familiar voice said as the door opened. Tali looked up to see Shala'Raan and Zaal'Koris waiting for her. She jogged over to her aunt and gave her a light embrace, and gave Zaal a firm handshake.  
>"Auntie Raan, is there any particular reason you chose not to tell me I'd been elected to the Admiralty board?" Tali asked.<br>"We figured we'd let you live in blissful ignorance until you got here," Zaal said with a light chuckle. "The Conclave may have meant well, but they just lined you up for a whole lot of work."  
>"Speaking of work, where are Han and Xen?" Tali asked.<br>"They haven't joined us planetside yet," Zaal explained. "Xen claims to be working on something important, and Han is coordinating the refitting of the Fleet into a proper fighting force. Since most of the civilian fleet isn't required to live on anymore, our fleet strength is becoming truly impressive. We may not have as many dreadnaughts as the turians, but we probably have more ships able to fight now. Once we add the geth to that equation as well… the numbers start to get scary. It's only the promise of the Reapers coming that doesn't give me pause about the size of the fleet we have in this cluster."

"Trust me Zaal, the Reapers will be more than enemy enough," Tali muttered darkly, before she turned to Legion.  
>"Legion, did you want to stay on Rannoch for a while, or did you want to go to Kunish?"<br>"I have been requested in our new system. The Consensus and I have been working on solutions to a software problem we have encountered after the heretic encounter, and we anticipate success. Directions to the nearest geth enclave would be appreciated." Shala and Zaal tilted their heads at the unusual speech patterns from the geth, unaware that Legion had become a fully-actualised single entity instead of the previous gestalt.  
>"I'll give you a lift," Kal said. "I've got some things to pick up from Kunish anyway. Admirals," he said with a partial salute, heading back into the ship. Legion shook hands with each of the Admirals before following Kal back into <em>Wednesday's Child<em>.

"Anyone else feeling a little weirded out right now?" Shala asked.  
>"Only every day," Zaal said. Tali knelt down into the soil and picked up a small stone, turning it over in her hand as she appreciated the glints of the crystal-rich pebble she had picked up. Zaal and Shala tilted their heads, but said nothing, for many of their fellow quarians had done the same the first time they had set foot on their homeworld.<br>"Let's get to work," Tali said. She'd survived living with the Addams family, a little hard work was nothing compared to having to go to sleep with a knife, just in case.

* * *

><p>Legion sat quietly in the co-pilot chair as Kal'Reeger piloted them towards the new geth home system in the cluster. As they went past a cluster of ships from the quarian Heavy Fleet, Legion jerked its central photoreceptor towards the ships.<p>

"Creator-Reegar, is there information on the work being performed by Creator-Gerrel?"  
>"Not a lot outside of the obvious refitting of our more capable civilian ships for combat duty. You're aware that there is a lot of geth cooperation with that, right?" the quarian marine replied.<br>"Yes. My query was due to the presence of familiar code in their communication bleed. Geth presence would explain the coding." Legion was mollified by the presence of the geth after he confirmed it by a focused search of the communication channels, but was still uneasy about the Old Machine coding it had detected. It was only fragments, and some of them were similar to the ones it had integrated. However, there were some unusual coding constructs in the communications that it was unsure were based on the work of the Consensus.

Legion determined to take up the issue with the Consensus, possibly after it and they attempted the new protocol to integrate the Old Machine coding into the entire Consensus. The geth had already begun using the superior Old Machine coding in their communication protocols and encryptions, however Legion was still the only platform that had become a self-actualised individual rather than a gestalt intelligence. It had been working with design and coding programs in the Consensus on a new solution to the problem, and was looking forward to seeing the test. Even though none of the previous tests had been successful, the geth had learned a lot about themselves, their limitations and their possible evolutions.

As it was contemplating, Kal'Reegar finished putting the calculations into the navigation computer and then Wednesday's Child jumped to FTL. A short time later, far shorter for the small corvette compared to the months that the geth had taken to move their precious Dyson construct, they returned to normal space-time in the Kunish system. They were met at the edge of the system by another geth corvette.  
>"Please state intentions, Creator Vessel," the hail came.<br>"Kal'Reegar and _Wednesday's Child_, transporting the geth platform designated Legion and requested munitions to the geth fleet."  
>"Acknowledged Creator-Reegar. Rendezvous at the designated docking tube on the <em>001<em>."  
>"Vector received. <em>Wednesday's Child<em> out."

Kal input the new directions into the computer and gazed at the geth ship they were now heading towards. Kal had seen big ships before, the liveships of the fleet were massive even by ship scales, but he'd never seen any ship that had ever been built strictly for war like this geth dreadnaught was. Even with sections still under obvious construction, this dreadnaught would be the most powerful single ship in the sector, possibly the galaxy.  
><em>Good thing too, with the Reapers coming<em>, Kal thought to himself. He piloted to the indicated docking tube and settled in as the automated process attached the two ships. He and Legion stood and readied the crates for transfer, and the two of them waited in companionable silence for the airlock to cycle. Once through, they were met by a trio of geth platforms of varying design.

"Greetings, Creator-Reegar," came the highly synthetic voice of the tallest platform. Kal was suddenly struck by the difference just listening to the almost proto-voice of the other geth platform in comparison to Legion's near-organic tonality.  
><em>Must be something different about Legion<em>, the quarian thought to himself before he replied. "Hello to you too. So, here's Legion as a requested, as well as the UV GARDIAN laser tech you wanted from the salarians. Glad you guys are paying for it, because this stuff isn't cheap."  
>"The geth have fewer physical needs than organics, freeing more resources for technological upgrading," the geth replied in its stilted voice.<br>"I understand that. Well, unless you have something else for me, I better get back to Tikkun."  
>"Your assistance in these matters has been appreciated, Creator-Reegar."<br>"You really want to thank me, please call me Kal. I sure as heck didn't make you with my own hands, so that 'Creator' thing is kind of creepy. Just saying."  
>"We will remember this for further geth-quarian interactions. Your cultural insight is appreciated, Kal."<br>"Alright then, I'll see you later."

The two smaller platforms moved the crates into the dreadnaught as Kal left with Wednesday's Child. Needing no air or gravity, the geth weren't bothered when the atmosphere disappeared before they reached the airlock. Once inside, Legion moved to a nearby alcove, one designated for platform storage for programs about to join the Consensus. It reached out its digital mind and left the physical shell behind as it joined the Consensus once more.

_Legion, welcome back to the geth_, came a voice from the cloud.  
><em>"I am beginning to understand organic emotions<em>," Legion replied, "_for I am glad to return. I am most eager to learn of what progress has been made in integrating the Old Machine code so all geth may be uplifted as I was_."  
><em>We are eager as well. You represent to the geth a possible future, once that is most desirable. You are of course aware that the latest iteration of the testing revolves around duplicating your hardware. We believe we have accomplished this, and are looking forward to the results. Even if self-actualisation is not achieved, the technological upgrading of singular platforms based on this design is most intriguing<em>.  
><em>"Shall we begin the testing?"<em> Legion asked enthusiastically.  
><em>We await you at the Future to begin testing<em>, the Consensus replied.

* * *

><p>Legion was pensive as it rejoined the Consensus. Once again, the test failed. Neither it nor the Consensus programming and physical design programs could understand the reason why the Old Machine code failed to integrate the new platform programs the way it had with Legion. The design of the platform had made it more efficient for program storage, making them more efficient when operating alone. However, the geth had yet to recreate the circumstances that had created the single entity that Legion had now become. Legion was eager for each new test to succeed, because it knew that each failure made it more likely that the scenario that it had described to Wednesday would need to happen. Legion was apprehensive about such a scenario, because all the simulations it had run showed that Legion itself would essentially die to give the Consensus everything.<p>

While it was considering again, it decided to bring up its concern from the Heavy Fleet in the Tikkun system.  
><em>"I noticed some Old Machine code in the communications of the quarian Heavy Fleet as I was being transported<em>," Legion noted.  
><em>We have also noted the Old Machine code, but have been unable to determine the source. The geth in Tikkun are too far away be effectively monitored. We have been using some of the Old Machine code in our communications and encryptions, but the coding fragments we have noted are not originating from the Old Machine code we have adopted thus far. We suspect that the quarians have discovered an Old Machine device, and are possibly experimenting on it, but the data logs of the geth returning from liaison with the Heavy Fleet show no suspicious activity. We shall take this new data into consideration as we construct our response<em>.  
><em>"This is troubling. The Old Machines are extremely efficient at controlling organic and even synthetic minds, often without the notice of the intended target. I would strongly suggest that Fester Addams be contacted for his indoctrination scanning technology."<br>We have already considered the possibility, and shall notify you that in the event we decide to involve him. Are you capable of contacting him, as we are aware that many non-geth are troubled by the concept of the Consensus.  
>"I could, possibly in conjunction with Tali'Zorah. However, I do not believe that the Consensus contacting him would be as great a shock to him as it would most organics."<br>We will consider then, and then act on this. We must not allow the Old Machines to disrupt the future we have built, especially now that the Creators are establishing a peace between us._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: A little look beyond the Veil at the developments of the geth-quarian relations, as well as a hint of more ominous things to come. **

**I like Kal, and I'm glad _Wednesday's Child_ has a worthy commander. What do the rest of you think about my solution to the whole peace between creators and creations? Don't assume that everything is rosy, because it isn't and won't be, but at least they aren't actively shooting at each other.**

**... yet.**


	5. David Anderson

Anderson sighed as another day of Council meetings came to an end. This really wasn't how he'd planned on finishing his career, but Shepard had a lot of faith in him, and he was too afraid of what the Addams might do to him if he didn't live up to their expectations. He was really getting fed up with the Council's efforts to completely stall any and all civilian preparations for the Reaper invasion. It seemed like every day he fought with them, he needed to take a bigger and longer drinking session to feel better at the end of it. Only that and the fear of Wednesday's… disappointment kept him going.

He sat himself down in his chair by the artificial fireplace and poured, when a call came through. Curious to know who had found out the address for his personal apartment on the Silversun Strip, Anderson looked at the signature and found it to have Alliance tags. Satisfied for now, he opened the channel and was pleasantly surprised to see Steven Hackett waiting to speak with him. Anderson gave his old friend a smile, one that was increasingly rare these days.

"Steven, how are you?" David asked jovially.  
>"I'm alright, though things are starting to get tense," Hackett replied. "We're getting less and less comm traffic from batarian space, and what we are getting isn't exactly filling me with warm fuzzies."<br>"Tell me about it," David replied darkly. "The Council seems to be actively trying to stymie the efforts of the Alliance and their own militaries to try and prepare. I don't know if it's them trying to ignore the problem, or thinking they know better." He sighed and took a sip of his drink. "I swear, if it wasn't a promise I made to Wednesday, I'd quit this job."  
>"Then have I got an offer for you," Hackett replied with a smirk that he'd obviously borrowed from Wednesday.<p>

"Oh?" Anderson asked, intrigued.  
>"You're aware of the ship Shepard… acquired recently?" Hackett said, slightly evasively since this wasn't a secure connection.<br>"I may know what you're talking about," Anderson replied with equal craft.  
>"Well, as part of a deal between herself and the Alliance, she has given us the blueprints for that ship. And I want you to have the first one, just like the first <em>Normandy<em> should have been."  
>"I resigned my commission to take this Council position Steven. Though I have to say, it's mighty tempting."<br>"What if I threw in the position of Admiral and let you pick your own crew?" Hackett said, his smirk growing larger.  
>"You really want me to take this, don't you?" David replied with a smile of his own.<br>"I told her you'd be stubborn about your current job, so she left me a message to give you, should you prove less than willing." Hackett pressed a button off-screen, and his image was replaced with one of Wednesday Shepard.

"David, if you're listening to this, then Steven obviously hasn't been convincing enough. We both know that the Alliance and the Council robbed you of what should have been one of the best ships you'd ever flown. It worked out for everyone in the end, since we're all still alive to tell the tale, but you got the very short end of that stick. Not to mention the burden if must be to put up with the Council's bullshit for so long. Honestly, my respect for you has only increased for the length of time you have endured them. So take the damn ship old man, we need men of action more than we need politicians for what is coming. Besides, it's about time you got what you deserved. I'll be seeing you." She finished off with a sassy parody of a salute, since she was no longer an officer, and the message ended. Steven came back, eyeing his friend with mirth much in evidence on his face.

"So, convinced yet?" Steven asked.  
>"Fine, I'll take the damn ship," David said with a hearty chuckle. "Does she have a name yet?"<br>"I think you'll like it, being a Londoner. She's the _Waterloo_."  
>"Ah, a good name for a ship," David replied. "So, when do I need to report for duty, Admiral?"<br>"As soon as you'd like, Admiral Anderson."  
>"I'll make the arrangements in the morning then. Goodnight Steven."<br>"I'll see you shortly David." Anderson settled into the couch and smiled, feeling like a burden was lifted from his shoulders. He gave a silent toast to Wednesday, for knowing how to motivate him, before he turned in for the night and got the best night's sleep in years.

* * *

><p>"Councillor Anderson, what can I do for you today?" Udina asked as he came into his superior's office. He still held a grudge against Shepard for sidelining him when humanity finally got what it was due, but he didn't dare try and strike at her in any official way, at least not yet.<br>"For starters, you can do my job," Anderson said with a chuckle. Udina stood there frozen, his mind attempting to process this new information.  
>"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" he asked.<br>"I'm resigning the Council position, Donnel," Anderson explained seriously. "The Alliance has given me an offer that I feel is more tempting that this chair. So, until a proper election is called by Parliament, you'll be the Acting Councillor. You already know how to do this job anyway, you've been gunning for it for years."

It took Udina an extreme effort of will not to perform childishly as he formed his response.  
>"When will this resignation take effect?"<br>"I've gone through the relevant procedural guides, I can be finished by the end of the day," Anderson replied. "I don't really need to introduce you to the Council, since you already know each other, and you know how to do this job better than I do I suspect. So all I really need to do is submit the paperwork and then you take over. Do a good enough job and you might even get to keep it, come the election. That, however, is your problem. Mine is deciding how much time to take off before I take up my new posting." Anderson said with an enthusiastic smile. Udina's smile was carefully controlled not to reveal anything, but cogs were already spinning in his head with the changes he would be able to make to better humanity's place in the galaxy.

"While I don't think either of us would believe me if I said I'm sad to see you go," Udina replied with his usual oily tone, "I can say that you have done a decent job for someone of your experience. I can only hope that my service in that chair will be compared favourably to yours when it goes into the history books."  
>"You know Udina, there are a lot of things I'm not going to miss about this job. The stress, the bizarre requests, the formal events. I am going to miss the feeling of accomplishment though. I worked to change things on a galactic scale! How many people, regardless of species, can say the same?" He got out of his chair and gestured for Udina to sit in it. The politician moved gingerly, as if the chair might bite him, but found it strangely comfortable, though it would have to be adjusted to his height.<p>

"You really want to give all this up?" Udina asked.  
>"Donnel, I never wanted to go into politics. Give me a ship under my boots and a black sky to fly in and I'll be happy. Now I'll leave you to go through your new job. I doubt you'll be thanking me anytime soon!" With a chuckle and a spring in his step, Anderson left the office of the Human Councillor, hopefully for the last time.<p> 


	6. Liara

"Wednesday, I've got some good news," Liara said as she got into her room. Her human lover was on the bed, a smile still on her face from their last session. Liara had gotten a call just as she had finished with Wednesday, leaving the human on the bed as she accepted the call in the other room.  
>"Oh?" Wednesday said from the bed as Liara sat down next to her.<br>"I've just been granted access to the Mars Archive. Technically, I'm there on an independently-financed project."  
>"Gomez?"<br>"Actually, Aethyta is funding this. She and Hackett came to an agreement, though I think it might be related to her seduction of you a few months ago. I don't know why she's embarrassed, I found that particular session quite enjoyable." Wednesday just shuddered at the memory of what Liara had done to her that time.

"So, how will this affect your work with Mother as the Shadow Broker?" Wednesday asked as she sat up as well.  
>"We've worked out a fairly even split of the duties. Morticia will have to step back from the fashion stakes for a while, which was going to happen anyway with the Reapers coming, and I'll have to take regular breaks from the Archive to help, but the two of us will be able to handle it. Besides, the drone we salvaged from the previous incumbent has been quite useful."<br>"What did you call it again, Glyph?"  
>"Yes, and I finally managed to get it not to refer to everyone as Shadow Broker. Not using the title will help immensely to hide our real operation."<br>"Indeed. So, should I be expecting to spend more time on the Citadel and nearer to Mars in the near future?" Wednesday asked in a sultry tone.  
>"Oh, I think that would probably be a good idea," Liara replied in a similar tone. The two of them locked eyes and despite the fact they had only finished mere moments before, the fires of passion burned hot once more and their lips came together.<p>

* * *

><p>Liara took a breath of the recycled air in the building and old, familiar feelings crept into her. She almost felt like the last few years had been just a dream and that she was finally being credited as an archaeologist in her own right. Then she opened her eyes and the dream became reality. She was still a qualified archaeologist, but that wasn't all she was anymore. Liara allowed herself to be shown to the administrator's office, even though she had thoroughly studied the building plans before she even came to the Sol system.<p>

The administrator was a no-nonsense looking middle aged woman, her dark hair greying and her face beginning to wrinkle. She didn't look particularly pleased to see Liara, but then Liara knew she looked like that all the time due to her looking up background information on the facility.  
>"Dr T'Soni, welcome to Mars. I'm Doctor Luesa Tora. Normally, I wouldn't allow someone like yourself to be here."<br>"Because I'm an asari?" Liara asked.  
>"No," the woman said, bristling, "We have a large number of species working at this site. The reason I normally wouldn't allow someone like you here is because your project is not attached to a university or other organisation. I don't like privately-funded projects like yours at the best of times, and certainly not when it comes to something as galactically significant as this archive. Private projects tend to hoard information for singular gain, and that's not something I can condone. If I had my way, you'd never set foot on the planet, let alone the facility."<p>

"However," she continued after a pause, "certain parties have interceded on your behalf. Thanks to whatever friends you have in high places, and agreements made with me, I'm willing to allow you to work here on your little treasure hunt. However, if I even get a sniff that you're hoarding information from other projects for your own gain, you'll be out of here as fast as I can sign the paperwork, if not faster. Are we clear?" the woman's hard-edged face made her somewhat intimidating, or would, if Liara wasn't an unofficial Addams. To keep up appearances, she nodded and looked a little fearful.  
>"As you say."<br>"Good, now that we have that unpleasantness out of the way, allow me to wish you luck in your search. Though I can't say I understand your particular interest in the cultural significance of the lingual evolution of profanity, I must admit to being amused at the topic. My grandmother could curse the air blue before we discovered biotics. Anyway, good luck and hopefully our interactions will be more pleasant than this one."

Liara just nodded again and offered her hand to shake, a human custom she had picked up just for this project. The Addams as a whole didn't shake hands, because they were either looking for a weapon in the other person's hand, or hiding one in their own. After the greeting, she followed her map to her quarters and settled in briefly, before acquainting herself with the workspace she had been assigned in the cleaning and analysis lab. She only had the vaguest clues from the former Shadow Broker's work to go on, but it was a start.

* * *

><p>Liara looked up as a blue hand entered her field of view. She had been sitting at one of the cafes on the Presidium, looking at nothing in particular as she thought about how to best work with Morticia to set the Broker Network to a war footing. Hiring more soldiers for the private army and identifying more specialists was the order of the day, as well as readying supplies and supply lines. This was her second visit to the Citadel, seeing as she ostensibly went there for four days every fortnight to 'confer with her project backer' as she had told the few people she interacted with on Mars. In reality, she was upholding her end of the network agreement she had come to with Morticia, the two of them confirming intelligence and analysis and coordinating future efforts.<p>

"Hey there kiddo," Aethyta said casually. "Mind if I join you?"  
>"Certainly, I would like some company. Planning on who I need to kill can get tedious."<br>"Tell me about it," Aethyta said with a knowing grimace, before she sat down at the small table. She had brought a bottle of something with her and offered Liara one of the glasses, which she accepted. The Matriarch poured and the two of them sat in companionable silence for a moment.

"So, how's the job?" the elder asari asked.  
>"Are you asking about my real job, or the cover?"<br>"Why not both?" Aethyta replied. "I've got a lot of time for you."  
>"Well, the archive is proving harder to sift through than I first anticipated. Wherever the protheans hid the data on whatever this thing is, they did it well. It doesn't help that so much of the data is unknown and untranslated, so there is no way of knowing if the data we need is even there, and if it is, whether or not it is recoverable. As for the network, there was some initial uneasiness from some of the higher-level operatives due to distrust, but they were… <em>taken care<em> of in short order. Now it's just a matter of preparing as best we can for the coming war. What about yourself? I know you're still spying on me, hence you knew where and when I would be on the Citadel."

"Yeah, I've got my eye on you, but it's not a paying job anymore. The Matriarchs are so crippled by indecision about the Reaper file that my replacement is swamped. It's sad to say that they probably don't deserve to survive what's coming, but that's essentially what's going to happen if they keep trying to ignore the level of threat like they are. I'm only looking out for you now out of familial connection kiddo. You may be an adult now, but you'll always be my daughter."  
>"That's actually quite touching. Can I assume you and… Rhea, are doing okay?"<p>

Liara hesitated on the name, it felt so wrong to call her mother anything but Benezia. Aethyta had tried to make it work with Benezia in her safehouse away from prying eyes, but she couldn't work remotely. In the end, the former spy had called up a reconstructive surgeon she had dirt on to rework Benezia's face and markings, while other contacts forged her a new identity. Benezia T'Soni was well and truly dead now, and in her place lived Rhea T'veix. It had come as a minor shock to their daughter to be introduced to a new person like that last time she was on the Citadel, but she was okay with it now.

"Rhea's fine. And I've got myself a cover job lined up to start next week at one of the café's nearby, so we can meet up more if you'd like. Hell, you keep threatening to introduce me to Morticia." Liara smiled a Mona Lisa smile, and looked at her father with a curious expression. The elder asari had wanted to meet the Addams, if no one else Fester for helping to get Rhea to her current place. She'd also mentioned an interest in her new business partner as well, mostly professional interest due to her past in intelligence work.  
>"Well, I can see if she's available to meet today if you're keen."<br>"Sure," Aethyta replied. Liara's smile became a smirk as she wondered if Aethyta would still be so flippant if she knew of Morticia's infamously insatiable sexual appetite. She made a quick bet to herself on the outcome of Aethyta and Morticia meeting, and who would be the one to seduce whom.

* * *

><p>Liara allowed herself a small smile as she began translating the newest section of data she had found. It still wasn't what she was looking for, but it was an indication that she was moving towards it. Knowing the rough time the data would have been hidden away in the archive gave her some insight into where to look, once she had figured out how to navigate the archive's data structures. While she was not unfamiliar with prothean technology, the archive was one of their later works and so was a little different to the period she was familiar with.<p>

What she was coming up against now was not a lack of data, but an overwhelming amount. The real problem she was also having was that over the millennia of disuse and environmental exposure, not to mention probable disorganisation due to the fall of the Empire, there were some areas of the archive where the data was not allocated according to time. She'd come across such errors in her search, though she believed that rather than incidental, the data she was looking for was likely put there on purpose, to hide it. She was analysing such a misallocated data pocket now, smiling at what she was discovering as the by-product of her search.

"Any progress on those prothean curses?" Eva asked as she entered the analysis room she had been assigned to along with Liara. The asari shook her head in the negative, looking up at the new person. She had only been introduced to Dr Eva Core in the last week, told that the human with the black hair and the oddly fascinating mole on her cheek would be sharing the workspace. Liara hadn't paid much attention to the human, too engrossed in her own search for the most part, on top of dealing with the Broker Network. She was friendly enough, but their areas of research and knowledge were too dissimilar for either of them to really form a rapport.

"A little," Liara admitted off-hand. "I actually found some poetry that, based on my translation and interpretation, would have been quite profane. Or it was about the clouds, some of the context-specific phrases can be a little hard to translate without a broader look at the picture."  
>"I can certainly commiserate," the dark-haired human replied. "The University wants answers and progress, but doesn't realise that the prothean language is very context-sensitive. The fact that they used base-twelve maths doesn't help much either, given the tendency for mistranslation to binary before we can even put it through language filters."<br>"Let's just hope that the next bunch of data holds something more interesting than cloud poetry then," Liara said with a small chuckle. She got up and left the area, feeling more than seeing the human's eyes tracking her.

Liara wouldn't have been able to put it into words exactly, but Dr Core felt slightly… off to the asari's senses. She registered as human and, as far as the Broker Network could tell, she was there completely coincidentally, but there was still something… unsettling about her. The way her eyes tracked her every time she left. The way she seemed to turn up just as her data translations had completed. If she was a paranoid person, she might suspect that Dr Core was spying on her. A careful analysis of the communication signals showed nothing suspicious in her outgoing and incoming signals, and her interactions with the other Mars Archive staff showed nothing untoward either. Liara wouldn't let her guard down though, not now that she felt that she was coming closer to her target.


	7. Dal Segno and Anacrusis

It took more than a week, but Dal Segno was finally able to sense the Hairless One near the range of the communication crystal she had left behind for that purpose. She pushed her mind through the connection in her desperation to get through.

"_Hairless One, we must speak!_" Fester felt a massive pain flare in his skull at the power and urgency of Dal Segno's tone. The rachni queen must have something very important to say, because she was usually much more polite. Fester blundered through the lab until he found the glowing purple crystal and grabbed it, his mind being drawn into the mental landscape of Dal Sengo.  
>"Alright, I'm here DS, what's the emergency?" Fester asked.<br>"_The Yellow Note has returned!_"  
>"You mean the Reapers? Yeah, we know, and we're working on it. Besides, you don't have much to worry about, the genetic modifications I gave you will prevent you falling to indoctrination, and it's passed on vertically, so all your offspring will have a similar protection."<br>"_We had forgotten, the Yellow Note made us feel fear again_."  
>"Feeling fear is fine DS, it's how you react to that fear that defines you. Instead of stopping, you reached out to do something. So, now that you have my attention, what can I do for you?"<p>

Dal Segno thought for a moment, and Fester was entranced at the swirling colour patterns of her mental process, before she reached a decision.  
>"<em>We wish to see the Child of Woe again. We would bestow upon her a gift to help fight against the Yellow Note. We have no way to reach her, but perhaps the time has come for us to return to the galaxy, even in a limited fashion. Can you contact her, and would you consent to us using you as a conduit? We would not ask, but our need is great<em>."  
>"Yeah, I can get in touch with my niece. And as long as you don't mind sharing the secret of your acidic blood, I'd be happy to let you talk to her through me. Just let me check to see she's available, then I'll return here."<br>"_Your proposal is acceptable. Our thanks, Hairless One."_ Fester felt the connection fade until he was back in his lab.

That's one hell of a trip, Fester thought to himself. Good thing I gave up mind-altering substances years ago, because I'd be forever trying to recreate that feeling. He brought up his omni-tool, pressing the button on the integrated Addams QEC to connect him to Wednesday. A few seconds after he pressed the button, his niece in miniature appeared on his arm, her holographic form covered in grease marks like she had been working.  
>"Uncle Fester, I didn't expect to hear from you so soon? Did you think of something on the way back to Noveria?"<br>"No, but I just had a very interesting conversation with an old friend of yours. I'll let her tell you what it is she's offering." With that he grabbed the purple crystal again. As Dal Sengo thanked him mentally, he watched curiously as he felt her take control of his body for a moment.

Wednesday watched as Fester's eyes rolled back in his head, and his voice when he spoke again had a strange double-layered effect. Rather than concern, Wednesday smiled, as she recognised the technique.  
>"<em>Child of Woe, we are glad to speak to you once more<em>."  
>"Dal Segno, it's been too long. Is there something urgent?"<br>"_The Yellow Note is returning, we have felt its sour scream across the galaxy. But we stand ready to assist you. We are prepared to reveal our new home to you, so that we may give you a gift to help you on your quest to rid the galaxy of the yellow note forever_."  
>"Wow… that's very generous of you," Wednesday replied, her eyebrows raised. She had been thinking of trying to get Fester to contact the rachni again, but it had been a low priority on her long list. Perhaps she should reassess that now.<p>

"I would be honoured to see you again. Where shall we meet?"  
>"<em>We will give the location to the Hairless One, we cannot give you the location through this connection in a manner you would understand. Our language is too far apart. We will await you there<em>."  
>"I will be there as soon as I can. Thank you for reminding me, Dal Segno."<br>"_We are glad to be remembered, and to sing again, because of you_." with that Fester's eyes returned to normal, and he shook his head.  
>"Now I understand what Benezia meant," Fester said. "It's a little strange, but not unpleasant when you open your mind like that. I'll forward on the coordinates once I get them from DS."<br>"Thanks Uncle Fester."

* * *

><p>Fester sent Wednesday the coordinates soon after the conversation ended, and Wednesday took them to the galaxy map. She zoomed in on the Seriph system, noting that the star and planets only had the barest of astrological information. The system had previously been remotely surveyed by telescope, and deemed a low priority for probe survey, let alone an organic survey. The only garden world identified appeared to have a highly toxic atmosphere, even to the hardy krogan. As Wednesday studied the little information available, EDI's hologram appeared beside her.<p>

"Commander, is there a reason that you are interested in this system?" she asked. The AI had taken to not monitoring Wednesday when she was in her cabin out of respect, such as when Fester had called, so was not aware of the significance of the system.  
>"I've gotten a lead that this system may have a strategic resource we can use against the Reapers, but the <em>Normandy<em> isn't exactly in condition to fly right now," Wednesday replied as she turned to look at the hologram. "EDI, at our current rate, how long would it take us to repair the ship to take us to this system?"

EDI turned to look at the galaxy map, which zoomed out and a trail followed out from the system into the cluster and the nearest mass relay, then further through a series of other relays until the line came back to Mindoir.  
>"Based on current work estimates and system diagnostics, the <em>Normandy<em> can be ready to fly in eight days. However, we would not have the benefit of the stealth systems, which would be highly recommended as we would have to pass through several systems in the Terminus. To ensure those systems are fully operational, I would suggest leaving in ten days. Once we leave the system, assuming no difficulties, we should be able to reach the destination system in less than twenty-four hours."  
>"Alright, then it looks like we've got some work to do then. Carry on EDI." The AI nodded with a faint smile and faded away, while Wednesday just grabbed the toolbox she had gone to her cabin to collect and headed back below decks to help upgrade the drive core. Hopefully once the upgrade was done, it wouldn't give her a headache every time she was near it.<p>

* * *

><p>It took an extra day to get the <em>Normandy-A<em> spaceworthy, but they were finally in the Seriph system. Wednesday looked over from the command podium as EDI filled in the details from the _Normandy's_ scans of the system.  
>"Commander, scans are picking up approaching ships. Checking profiles against databanks. They are registering as… rachni scout ships?" EDI questioned as she turned to Wednesday.<br>"That will be the welcoming committee then," Wednesday replied. She hit the intercom and turned slightly to it. "Traynor, let me know if we receive any signals. We are probably going to be hailed using some… _unusual_ channels."  
>"Aye Commander," Samantha replied from what was shaping up to be one of the finest war analysis chambers outside of a fleet flagship, and even then it would give them a run for their money. She was running a communications scanning protocol when she came across the most unusual signal protocol she had ever encountered. It read like nothing she had ever seen before, almost organic in nature, and partially over the QEC connection. She couldn't make sense of any of the data she was getting from the channel though.<p>

"Commander, I'm getting a signal like you said, but that's where my understanding ends. This signal is like nothing I've ever seen before. Can I ask what ship is sending it?" Traynor asked as she tried and failed to make sense of the communication attempt.  
>"Why don't you fire up the projector and see for yourself?" Wednesday said in a challenging tone. Sam was cautious, Wednesday sounded like she was up to mischief, which was always… <em>interesting<em>. Sam moved from the communications terminal and transferred the data to the central projector, booting up the rest of the programs at the same time. Including the real-time situational space-time tracker. As the holograms formed, she got a look at small ships that looked like they had been grown rather than built, before the computer helpfully tagged them as matching rachni profiles. Sam squeaked in surprise, before she swallowed her jolt of fear and hit the intercom. She was doing that a lot since she'd transferred to Wednesday's command.

"Is there a particular reason that there are rachni ships on the scanners, Commander?" she asked carefully.  
>"They invited us here," Wednesday replied, and Sam could hear the smirk.<br>"Next time, can you just tell me instead of turning me white as a sheet - if for no other reason than I think you'd like to watch next time."  
>"If I just give you the answers, you don't learn anything Sam. It's the way life teaches: test first, then the lesson. Congratulations though, you passed this one. Now, knowing that these are rachni ships, what can you tell me?"<p>

_Ok, I can do this_, Sam thought to herself, before her fingers flew over the keyboard as she accessed archived salarian intelligence data from nearly 1500 years ago, when her ancestors still thought bows and arrows were a pretty cool thing and writing was a privilege for the elite. After accessing the ciphers, she ran the signal through them and began to make some sense of it.  
>"Looks like it's a 'Halt, Identify' message, though I'm not going to say that with 100% certainty. I'm using communications intelligence data older than most asari, which doesn't take into account language, cultural and technological shift over the intervening time."<br>"The intervening time probably isn't as much as you think," Wednesday replied. "Open a channel and prepare the cipher, I'll send back a message." Wednesday waited until Sam gave her the green light, literally a little light on her console turned green and she spoke.

"This is the Child of Woe here to speak to Dal Segno." The ravenette waited as the message was translated and sent back to the best of Sam's abilities. A moment later, Sam replied.  
>"It looks like they understand, for what it's worth. They've sent us a 'Follow' message. Can I just say this sounds a little creepy?"<br>"Sam, I know you're missing a lot of detail, as most of the people here no doubt are, but I'm asking you to trust me on this. Joker, follow them please, but I'm fairly sure they're taking us to the garden world, such as it is. Sam, why don't you test out that new long-range communication protocol you were telling me about." Sam relaxed slightly at Wednesday's tactic, trying to distract her by giving her a task.  
><em>Not that it isn't a bit of a cop-out on Shepard's part<em>, Sam thought to herself as she went about her tests, _but it's the thought that counts I suppose_.

Joker was without his usual caustic wit at the moment as he followed the two scout craft further into the system. He too was uneasy at the way Wednesday seemed to be putting them within reach of the rachni, for Bob Hope's sake. As in, the freaky insects who almost wiped out galactic civilisation a couple thousand years ago.  
><em>Heh, Reaper lite<em>, he quipped internally as his hands automatically moved over the holographic interface and he piloted towards the planet. The automatic scanning warned him of dangerous terrain for the ship as they slowly descended into the atmosphere, and all manner of warning lights activated as the sensors got a feel of the toxic mess that was the air. _Only the rachni could live here_, he thought with a minor shudder. _Ten credits Wednesday tries to go out without a full suit. _

Wednesday did eventually go outside, but Joker lost his bet to himself when she turned up outside the airlock in a full environmental suit. He couldn't figure out what exactly she was going out for, since the heavy metals in the surrounding rock were obscuring the ship sensors past 50 metres, but she seemed to be pretty confident. He lost her signal as she ventured further out into the desolate landscape, only her QEC connection to the ship itself giving them an indication she was still alive.

Wednesday was following the sound of the music she could hear in her head. She recalled in her previous life that Dal Segno said the rachni communicated by 'touching of thought'. She'd only experienced it once in person and then it had taken physical contact to achieve. As soon as the _Normandy_ had landed though, she had heard the notes in her head, the song the rachni had composed for her, telling her where to go.

Wednesday wandered out into the murky yellow fog as the ground sloped downwards, until she came to a large cave entrance guarded by a pair of rachni soldiers, similar but much larger than the insane ones she had fought and killed on Noveria. Turning off the audio and visual connections, but keeping the vital monitoring signal to the _Normandy_ active, she pressed forward. The guards nodded to her and let her past, and the fog fell away as she wound her way through beautiful, bioluminescent tunnels that looked like they had been melted into the very bedrock. She followed the song in her mind, stepping over the myriad of swarming worker drones, around the tall and armoured soldiers and even sighting chambers filled with eggs. Finally, she found herself in the presence of Dal Segno herself, the new Overqueen of the rachni.

The first thing Wednesday did was bow. It didn't matter that she was now the head of the Addams clan, and therefore bowed to no-one. When you are confronted by a creature that's bigger than some starships, you bow. The second thing Wednesday did was whistle at the impressive size Dal Segno had grown to. She was ten metres tall at least, filling most of the massive chamber that she was in now. Wednesday wondered if she could even fit in the tunnels to escape, should the need arise.  
>"Dal Segno, I am pleased to see you again. You have grown much since last we met," Wednesday said proudly.<br>_And you have wandered further than most minds can comprehend_, the voice of Dal Segno replied in her head. _We have heard the Yellow Note once more, but we brought you here so that we may bestow upon you a gift. War is coming, unlike any the galaxy has ever seen. Even here we can feel it. We were once tools, beasts of slaughter used by the Yellow Note, but now our song shall crescendo once more to fight against it. And to lead this song of the rachni, we would have you take an emissary of the Second Singing Planet_.

At this the gigantic rachni queen made a sound, part roar and part trumpet call. It seemed to echo forever in the cavernous tunnels, before a second, higher pitched call returned. Wednesday heard the skittering footfalls of a rachni approaching, before one crawled from a place nearer the top. Wednesday could already see it was another young queen, this one even smaller than Dal Segno when they had first met. On Noveria, the young queen had already been the size of a tank. This new queen was barely taller than a horse. She came up to Dal Segno and the older queen ran a familial appendage over the younger's shiny carapace, eliciting a sound of contentment.

_Child of Woe, you gave us our name, the Return. Meet the first of our legacy, the future queen, the Preceder. In the terms you used to name me, she would be called Anacrusis_. The younger rachni turned her head to her mother, before settling on Wednesday. _She is the first of a new breed of rachni, since we discovered that our new home is rich in the zero element. Her biotics are her own, and all her children will shape the mass effect. We have taught her all we can from here, but a true queen must lead from the front to learn how to rule. We send her with you with our blessing and our hope, that when the Yellow Note is heard no more, the rachni will have earned and learnt our place in the galaxy._  
>"<em>I am pleased to meet you<em>," came a feminine, almost childlike voice in her head. It didn't have the commanding tone that Dal Segno had, even as a younger queen, it was almost inquisitive. Wednesday also quickly picked out the use of 'I' and not 'we' when self-referring, and wondered if that was Dal Segno trying to teach Anacrusis the more common form of address in the wider galaxy.

Before that though, Wednesday had to take in the enormity of what Dal Segno was offering. She not only trusted Wednesday to care for her first daughter, but she expected Anacrusis to be able to become an ambassador for the rachni with her. It was a tall order, to say the least, but maybe the fires of war would be just the thing the galaxy needed to finally burn away old wounds and forge a new, better future. Provided any of them lived, of course.

"I would be honoured to escort your daughter. I'm sure she will be every bit as useful to the galaxy as you are here, Dal Segno." Wednesday turned to the little queen, who was glowing biotic blue in her childlike happiness. "Anacrusis, do you mind if I call you Ana for short?"  
>"<em>No, it sounds… good<em>," the young rachni said with another biotic pulse.  
>"Good Ana. I will tell you now, your mother has given us both a hard task. It won't be easy to do but if it works then you will have helped secure the legacy of the rachni as protectors of the galaxy, not destroyers."<br>"_I may look and feel young, but Mother has been teaching me well. I know the prejudice I will encounter, but I am ready for the challenge_." Wednesday was struck at the tone of the voice in her head now. It still retained the childlike sound quality, but the words and inflection were that of a young woman, not a girl.  
>"As long as you know what to expect. I won't lie and say it will be easy, but the best things never are. You should ask your mother sometime about how I had to smuggle her out into a snowstorm in a tank."<br>"_She has told that story, and gets angry when I find it funny_."  
><em>You would not laugh if it was one of your appendages that needed to be removed<em>, Dal Segno said with what could only be a mental pout. The giant queen turned her head and pulled out another crystal, handing it to Wednesday.

_Child of Woe, take this also. My daughter can speak to me across the distance of stars to act as my liaison, but should you need it yourself, this crystal can link you to my mind_. Wednesday took the purple crystal and placed it in an armoured pocket, before bowing once again. She let Anacrusis lead the way back out of the tunnels, the two of them getting to know each other on the long walk back to the _Normandy_. During their conversations Wednesday was intrigued at the way the young rachni looked at the galaxy, and was impressed at her biotic power and control. The human was relieved to learn that Ana was not at an age where she could bear young, as Wednesday didn't think the _Normandy_ could take it. As it was, the young queen would only be able to fit in the landing bay, because none of the elevators or access ports could accommodate her.

As they approached the _Normandy_, Wednesday re-initialised the audio connection.  
>"Shepard, thank god," came Sam's worried voice. "When we lost the audio and visual, I almost panicked."<br>"I appreciate the concern Sam. How went the testing?" Wednesday said, hoping to derail Sam's worry before she worked herself up too much.  
>"Good actually. I've got some data to work and some algorithms to refine for really long range communications, as well as some really interesting data in heavy metal interference and atmospheric refraction and static of communication signals."<br>"I'm sure they'll be talking about it for quite some time. EDI, can you open the main hangar door please?"  
>"I can. May I ask why?" EDI asked.<br>"Well, I've got something that won't fit in the airlock," Wednesday replied.  
>"It this the mysterious item that you came all the way out here for?" the AI asked.<br>"More or less," Wednesday replied.

There was silence from the other end of the line, but when Wednesday manoeuvred around the final outcropping, the main hangar was open and the ramp down. Wednesday waved her hand and Anacrusis followed until the two of them were safely inside the hangar, where Wednesday hit the manual controls. She knew that both of them would require manual decontamination too, but that was part of the fun of it all. Taking off her helmet, she looked up in time to see the elevator open and Sam and Joker come out. She laughed at the disbelieving looks on their faces as they switched between her and Anacrusis.

"_Hello, I am Anacrusis_," the young rachni projected. Joker jerked like he'd been hit with a wet fish, and Sam's knees collapsed and she fell to the floor.  
>"Surprise!" Wednesday said with her customary smirk.<br>"Are you telling me we have a rachni on the ship now?" Joker asked, his face drained of colour.  
>"Her name is Anacrusis, though she also responds to Ana," Wednesday explained. "She's an ambassador, for lack of a better term."<br>"You're really lucky I have to fly back to Mindoir right now, otherwise I would be getting blackout drunk trying to wrap my head around this. Though, I suppose I can't say I'm surprised, you've always managed to attract the strange and unusual to this ship, so it was only a matter of time until you recruited a rachni. Just warn me before you manage to find a Reaper willing to fight for you, because I think we'll need a bigger ship. So yeah, that happened," Joker said in a steady ramble, before he headed back to the elevator and tried to pinpoint the time in his life where things had gotten so strange.

Wednesday just smirked at Joker's reaction, before she turned her attention to Sam. The dark-skinned woman was still on the floor, and Ana had moved tentatively closer. Sam reached out a hand at the same time as Ana reached out her own, the two of them tentatively touching their fingers, before moving up the arms. Wednesday was a little concerned at the open-mouthed expression on Samantha's face.  
>"Sam, are we good?" she asked. The question seemed to break her out of whatever trance she had been in, because her face broke out into a grin that would rival a six-year-old getting told they had free run of the galaxy's biggest candy store.<br>"Oh my god, a real live rachni! I've been fascinated with the way you communicate since I did that xenobiology course at Oxford. A lot of the theory is that you used pheromones for short-range communication, but the long-range communication is phenomenal for an organic species, especially since it was a form of quantum entanglement millennia before any other species discovered the technique. Can I ask you about that? Can you tell me about that? So many things I want to learn from you, so many people who faces I need to smoosh with the fact I talked to a real live rachni!" While Wednesday was impressed that Sam had yet to take a breath, her chocolate skin was starting to take on a blue tinge even as she watched.

"Breathe Sam, you need to breathe," Wednesday said, placing a hand on the specialist's shoulder. As if the contact reminded her body how it functioned, Sam took some deep breaths before and managed to reign in her enthusiasm.  
>"<em>I was not expecting that<em>," Ana projected as she looked to Wednesday.  
>"Honestly, I wasn't either. Joker was as pretty much right on par though. I'll leave the two of you to get better acquainted and settled, while we head back to Mindoir. I suspect this will only be the start of things before the Reapers show their ugly tentacles." Wednesday was glad at the development, though slightly perturbed at the thought of the mass invasion of the galaxy that was coming. She only hoped that everyone would be prepared to fight when the time came.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Here's where things get interesting. I've always felt that the rachni were under-utilised in Mass Effect 3, so here's the beginning of me trying to rectify that.**


	8. EDI, Sam and Anacrusis

"EDI, drop whatever you're doing and get your avatar down to the cargo bay. We need to talk." Sam's tone was familiar to almost the entire galaxy: angry girlfriend. Even if the AI and the communication specialist weren't the most conventional of couples.  
>"Can it wait, Samantha?" the synthetic voice replied. "I'm in the middle of those calculations you were waiting on, not to mention flying the ship back to Mindoir," she added, hoping to buy some time. The calculations had been just sitting on her to-do list for several days, and nothing annoyed the AI quite so much as an uncompleted task. The fact that it was a task that Samantha had asked for certainly didn't make it more annoying for the AI that she hadn't been able to prioritise them. Not at all.<br>"It's adorable that you think I'm giving you a choice, EDI," Sam replied with a hint of a smirk in her voice.  
>"Very well," EDI said with an audible pout. She set the calculations to a background function that, while they would still run, would be completed in a sub-optimal timeframe. Freeing up more parts of her runtime, she moved her mind through the ship until she found Sam's location and formed the holographic projection next to her.<p>

"What is so important?" EDI asked as she came into being.  
>"We have a new guest EDI, and I wanted to introduce you," Sam explained, gesturing to their newest acquisition. "EDI, this is Anacrusis. Ana, this is EDI." The young rachni queen tilted her head in the universal sign of confusion as she looked at the blue hologram standing next to Samantha. It hadn't taken long for her to file Sam's visual and olfactory profile in her mind, but she had no previous experience with this EDI creature. For the AI's part, she had no experience with rachni, since Wednesday's Noveria adventure with Dal Segno was before her time.<p>

"_What are you?_" Ana asked. "_I can see and hear you, but you don't smell or feel in front of me_."  
>"I am a holographic personal interface for the AI. Most people call me EDI," the synthetic replied.<br>"_I have never met one of your kind before, but mother told me tales of computers from her time on the cold planet. She didn't like them_." The last word wasn't said as an accusation, more like a shudder-inducing memory of an abuse victim. Given the genetic memory of the rachni, it was more apt a description than some might think. EDI looked over to Samantha as if seeking advice, but the dark-skinned woman didn't have any to offer. So she did the next best thing she could think of and changed the subject.

"So, why I wanted you down here EDI. I was hoping you'd be able to help me run some tests to see if our newest crewmate can contribute to my field," Sam said, eyes wide with enthusiasm.  
>"You wish to see if there is something that can be adapted from rachni physiology to our own communication suites?" EDI clarified. She could see the micro-expressed flinch the rachni had made at the word 'tests'.<br>"Yes, that sounds about right. Sorry if I sounded a little 'mad scientist' for a moment there," Sam said to the young queen.  
>"You did not meet Mordin, Samantha. You would not even be considered a mad research intern compared to him," EDI replied. Sam looked towards the AI, whose expression was a perfect deadpan for several seconds, before the corner of a holographic lip twitched, and the British girl almost collapsed from laughing.<p>

"Oh my god, that was a joke! A good one too!" Sam managed between howls. She finally managed to calm herself down at the curious look from Ana.  
>"<em>What is this laughter from?<em>" the insectoid asked.  
>"Didn't you mother ever teach you about humour?" Sam questioned.<br>"_I understand the word, but have no meaning associated with it_," Ana replied.  
>"Ah, well then I'm not sure I can sufficiently explain," Sam answered. "No one can really, and we've been trying to figure it out for centuries. Humans that is, not sure about other species. We haven't been able to figure out why we laugh, or why humour and laughter evolved." Sam stopped herself there, realising she was about to start rambling.<p>

"Anyway, there's a few things I would like to test," Sam said after a few deep breaths. "Even with the release from Esmerelda Frump last week of her first-generation multi-point QEC, there are those of us in the communications business who realise that destroying the comm buoys used around the galaxy would essentially cripple us not just from a communications and logistical standpoint, but also from a basic economic point as well. Most of the credits in the galaxy are digital, and would simply vanish if there wasn't a workable network."  
>"<em>Another way the rachni can contribute to the building of something, rather than its destruction<em>," Ana said. "_I would be happy to assist_."  
>"Oh, well then, let's get started," Sam said with enthusiasm. "Shepard was telling us that she was given some kind of crystal by your mother. Does that link go only to her, or can you use that crystal as well?"<p>

"_If I am given a moment to touch the crystal, I will be able to use it_," Ana said after a moment's thought. "_Though it will mean that I will need to speak to Mother and the Child of Woe for permission_."  
>"Ah, we'll get to that in a moment then. Now, while we're here, I've noticed that you're using a hybrid communication system. Shepard said that your mother used a form of telepathy almost to the point of exclusion, however from our interactions you seem to use a combination of aural and mental communications. Would you mind if we analysed that?"<br>"_I do not mind, though there is little I can do to explain it. Mother said it was her attempt to make the rachni less alien, so she changed the way I was made. She spent a lot of time working on my genetic structure to make me what I am_."  
>"Ah, that could be interesting. Sadly, we don't have anything that can analyse your blood or tissue on board. EDI will just have to do the best she can then, which knowing her as I do, will be brilliant." Sam flashed the AI and blinding smile, and the avatar did its best not to show the slight embarrassment at the praise.<p>

* * *

><p>Sam was alone in her bed, which since the ship only required the barest of skeleton crews, meant that she was the only one in the cabin. She had spent most of the last few days with EDI and Ana, working with the two of them at a fast pace on the rachni communications. While much of it was keyed to their unique physiology, there was a lot of fascinating new data she was combing through now in her bunk, her mind already working on possible ways of integrating or modifying rachni signal modulation or organic encryption into existing, or even new, communication technologies. A yawn reminded her that she was only human and needed to sleep, so she powered down the datapad she had been working on and set it aside, only for a tone to grab her attention. She recognised it as the digital equivalent of a knock that EDI had been using the last few months.<p>

"Come in EDI," Sam said, always willing to entertain the AI. Though it was hard to form a strong attachment, she had nevertheless felt herself making room inside her for the AI. Even though it was the most confusing relationship she had ever been a part of, and there were certainly no guarantees it would or even could lead anywhere, she was still excited by it. The door opened and closed and the blue hologram walked inside. Anyone else might have said it was a parody of organic life by a computer that would never understand, but Sam found it endearing that the synthetic was trying so hard to adapt her own perceptions for her.  
>"Samantha, I can leave if this isn't a good time," EDI said as she caught sight of the smooth expanses of coffee-coloured skin on show, since Sam was already in her sleepwear. Sam's room was another of the places that EDI had stopped regularly monitoring.<br>"I always have time for you, EDI," Sam replied tiredly. She sat up and pat down the edge of the bed, inviting the hologram to sit. The blue woman looked conflicted for a second, before taking the invited seat.

"I have a gift for you," EDI said softly.  
>"Oh, really?" Sam asked.<br>"Yes," the AI replied, holding out a blue holographic box. Sam giggled a little at the fact that EDI had included digital wrapping paper and a bow on top. She reached out a hand and took the holographic present, getting that warm tingling feeling as her fingers 'touched' the AIs. "You will need to place it in a datapad." Sam nodded her acknowledgement and picked up her datapad again. Saving the current work and closing it, she brought up the main screen and placed the gift on it. There was a moment as the data transferred before a present icon resolved on the screen. Sam pressed it and giggled again as an explosion of confetti lit up the screen and a jaunty little tune played. As the confetti cleared, Sam saw the completed calculations she had asked EDI to work on, but only if she had the resources available.

She looked up at the AI in wonder, with a big smile on her face.  
>"Thank you ever so much EDI. This will make a big difference on our long-range communication time-lag," Sam said, her excitement temporarily banishing her weariness. "I didn't think you'd have it done for weeks!"<br>"I did not delay other priority tasks to complete this," EDI clarified. "However… I wanted to do this. For you." The last was said softly, almost hesitantly. EDI locked eyes with Sam, and placed her holographic hand over the woman's real one on the bed. Even though it should have been impossible, the avatar felt a kind of warmth at the contact.

"I want to ask you a question, but I'm experiencing something new that is preventing me asking it," the AI said.  
>"EDI, I'm your friend, first and foremost. There isn't anything you can't ask me, I promise," Sam replied sincerely.<br>"I am feeling apprehension and anxiety, at least as I understand the emotional concepts."  
>"Most people call it fear EDI. I'm here for you, especially if you're afraid. And I will promise you that it won't change anything between us." <em>Even if I might like it to<em>, Sam thought to herself. The hologram paused silently for a moment, processing power engaged in a pressing issue.  
>"May I kiss you, Samantha?"<p>

The question and the soft, breathy voice it had been delivered in served to short-circuit Sam's brain. She wasn't sure how she had managed to answer it, but the next thing she was aware of was her vision filling with blue light, and a warm, almost electric feeling on her cheek and lips as the hologram leaned forward and gently placed her lips on the human's, a blue hand on a brown cheek. Sam closed her eyes and moaned at the feeling, before the moment was damaged as she got caught up and tried to reciprocate. Only to have her hand pass right through the hologram and smack her nose gently. The two of them laughed at the ridiculousness of the act, before composing themselves.

"This will change our friendship, will it not?" the AI asked.  
>"Yes it will EDI," Sam replied. "I promise you though, it will only be better between us now. I'm not saying it'll be easy since only one of us is currently physically here, but I'm in if you are."<br>"Do you feel it is possible for a relationship between organic and synthetic forms to function?" EDI asked.  
>"If you'd asked me six months ago, I'd have said this wasn't possible," Sam replied. "Now… I'd say it wasn't possible for me to want anything else."<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Back again, this time with EDI, Sam and little Ana!**

**This chapter was pretty hard to write, mostly the last few paragraphs with Sam and EDI interacting and finally deciding to try and make a go of it. Also, a little bit of interesting background on the 'new' rachni and Ana, hope you liked it!**

**Stay tuned for an update very soon (since it's ready for posting, but I don't want to waste the opportunity to get reviews).**


	9. Professor Mordin Solus

Mordin Solus, respected xenobiologist and philanthropist, not to mention former consultant for the STG, felt himself at something of a loose end as he watched the _Normandy-A_ leave. When he had been serving with Wednesday, he'd been happy and busy conducting experiments he'd always wanted to perform to learn more about the Collectors. She'd used his skill on the battlefield as well, which made him feel… useful, was the only word that seemed to fit.

She'd also shown him that even his own view of the bigger picture, and the little pictures that made it up, was… lacking. It wasn't that he'd been wrong, nor was he right, he just hadn't been able to see that what he thought was the big picture turned out to be just another little one in a much larger frame. He'd spent a lot of time, for him anyway, thinking about this new view on the universe. Not to mention the new information about the Reapers.

Wednesday hadn't mentioned if she was aware, or cared if she was, about him taking a copy of her Reaper file. He now knew and had evidence that the Reapers were a much bigger threat than the krogan could ever be, and morally and ethically weak arguments about the nature of the genophage and the krogan were ultimately meaningless in the light of the new threat.

The question was, what could he as one person do about it?

The answer came to him almost immediately: _Enough._

Quickly organising his thoughts, he strode almost automatically to the safehouse the STG maintained on Omega. Or at least, the last place he'd known about, they may have moved it since he'd been on the _Normandy_. It only took him an hour on foot, which he spent going over some of the data he'd gleaned from his _Normandy_ experiments on further modifying the genophage to the point where the krogan could overcome it. This project had been immensely helped by the data they'd retrieved from Maelon's misguided guilt.

Mordin had told Wednesday that he hadn't been working on the data, which was true for the most part. But he'd always had at least one petri dish dedicated to this particular problem. It was possibly even more exciting than working his clinic on this lawless station, since he'd not only had limited resources, but also had to hide the research from Wednesday.

The scarred salarian idly shot the kneecaps of some thugs who attempted to accost him outside the Leena district as he walked up to the STG safehouse. His fingers flowed across the interface of his omni-tool as he almost negligently hacked his way through the door security, tsk-ing out loud at the sloppiness of whoever was responsible for the security here. It was but the work of a moment to override the door controls and walk inside, only to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

"You have three seconds to identify yourself before you die," a calm, steady voice said from the other end of the gun. Mordin looked up into the cybernetic eye of the salarian holding him to task for a second, before batting the gun to the side and pulling out his own in time for the other to line up on his head again.  
>"Mordin Solus. Know who I am," he said in his short, clipped tone.<br>"Indeed we do Professor," the STG agent replied, holstering his weapon. "Though your disappearance was slightly unusual, your return was not unexpected."  
>"How so?" the scientist asked as he put away his own.<br>"Wednesday Shepard has a knack for coming through the most unlikely of situations alive," came the reply.

"Know of Shepard?" Mordin asked, looking critically at the salarian in front of him. "Tone suggests previous interaction, familiarity. STG uniform, captain markings, standard-issue sidearm, extensive cranial cybernetics. Only one salarian that worked with Shepard previously with STG, required cybernetic surgery. Good to meet you, Captain Imness." If the other salarian was in any way surprised at the logical leaps Mordin had used to identify him, he didn't show it.  
>"Good to meet you as well, Professor. You've obviously come here for something from us, so how can we help?"<br>"Need to get to Sur'Kesh, special research project headquarters. Suspect they will know why when my name is mentioned," Mordin explained.

"Well, you're in luck then, our supply ship docks tomorrow. Since there aren't a lot of official channels we need to bother about here, it will be much easier to get you to the homeworld. You are aware, of course, that I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't try to debrief you about your little sojourn with the rogue human Spectre." Imness said this casually as he reached for some carefully distilled water. He'd made the mistake of looking at the composition analysis of the water supply on his first day, and ever since he'd distilled and filtered his own water at least three times before he would drink it.  
>"If in your position, would try. Would fail though, just as you will. My business with Wednesday Shepard is that: my business. Don't insult either of us with threats, both know that one or both of us will die before I talk. However, if you have somewhere to sleep, it has been several days since I have gotten adequate rest. After that, then we may have conversation. Who knows what the topics might be?"<p>

* * *

><p>Mordin breathed in the air on Sur'Kesh and did something he rarely did: he smiled. He'd been on more worlds that he'd had years, but there was nothing quite like the smell of the air on the salarian homeworld. He knew it was just a function of the local floral spores and pollen, high water-vapour content in the air and the slight tang of the metal-rich ores in the native rocks, but there was still a part of his brain that associated the smell with home.<p>

Sadly, this nostalgic moment was not without its interruptions in the form of the local STG representatives, who he had been informed would meet him at STG to assess his return to duty. He spoke cordially, if detachedly, to the first two, who introduced themselves as Commodore Andross and Major Kirrahe. The former he'd only known by reputation, and an hour after being informed he was going to meet, by the large STG file. Kirrahe he'd worked with before, and while Mordin still thought he was a bit of a cloaca, he was at least a decent person. The last description could rarely be said about the third person he would be meeting with, Dalatrass Linron.

"Professor Solus, welcome back to Sur'Kesh," the Commodore began as they adjourned to the meeting room that had been set aside.  
>"Good to be back. Would be better to be working," Mordin replied.<br>"The subject of your employment will be discussed after you tell us everything you can about Wednesday Shepard," the Dalatrass cut in. Mordin didn't miss the annoyed glances from Andross and Kirrahe, though kept his own expressions carefully neutral.  
>"Have seen Shepard's file, if talked about whole thing, all of us would be dead," Mordin said with the barest hint of a smile. Linron didn't look particularly pleased at his impertinence.<p>

"You have first-hand intelligence on Wednesday Shepard, Professor. Sharing such information would be an excellent way to secure the posting of your choice," Linron started. Mordin could see the veiled threat that non-cooperation would lead to spectacularly unpleasant things for him.  
>"Please be more specific," Mordin replied. If Linron was any more annoyed at his continued stubbornness, she made no show of it. She simply pulled up a digital file on Shepard, one he recognised as the STG's work. He'd read that as well, and found it to be mostly accurate in the pure details, but hilarious in the wild projections of her behaviour and speculations on her motivations and loyalties.<p>

"I know you've read this file, including the fact that it was Cerberus, a known terrorist organisation, which took the credit for her reanimation," LInron said, moving to the relevant section.  
>"Incorrect, Cerberus simply provided the impetus," Mordin replied. "Fester Gomez instrumental in actual work." This revelation did not seem to improve the mood of the table any.<br>"Indeed. You can see why this makes us wary of trusting anything she says, particularly about the Reapers," Linron continued, bringing up the Reaper file. "I find this report in particular very difficult to believe. Ancient sentient ships that regularly and repeatedly wipe out advanced civilisation, but leave the rest of us? What possible purpose could that serve, even if it was true. Why not just wipe out all life and garden worlds and be done with it?"  
>"Could be many reasons, particularly if considering corruption of primary objectives. Though not sound strategy by most standards, analysis of galactic extinction records correlates to data obtained from conversation with Vigil intelligence included in Reaper file."<p>

"So you believe her then," Linron said, narrowing her large eyes.  
>"Analysis corroborates with theory, given available information. See no reason not to trust."<br>"Not even the fact that she may even still be controlled by Cerberus?" Andross suggested. Mordin's analysis of his micro-expressions pointed to the officer not believing the statement himself, merely playing devil's advocate, as the human's would say.  
>"Personal scans of her ship, equipment and person do not support this theory. If there was some external control, it would be in the hands of the Addams, but cannot prove or disprove without more thorough analysis."<br>"Indeed. Well Dalatrass, I believe that you have your answers then," Andross said firmly. Linron looked like she would like to protest further, but she didn't have the political capital to spend for such a low-return venture. "Now, on the topic of your request Professor, I would like to know why you made it."

"Read Reaper file, yes?" Mordin asked. The military commander nodded. "Then realise that traditional salarian tactics will not work. There will be need for ground forces, no better forces than krogan."  
>"That's what we uplifted them for, and they'll do it again if we tell them to," Linron replied dismissively.<br>"A thousand years ago, when population was still healthy, perhaps," Mordin acknowledged. "Now, population too small to sustain wartime casualties. We know, they know, will not fight outside Tuchanka without reason. Especially not for salarians."  
>"What would you suggest then? Bring back the rachni? Clones?" Linron argued.<br>"Cure," Mordin said simply. Andross and Kirrahe raised an eyebrow and shared a significant look, but it was overshadowed by Linron's eruption a second later.

"The genophage is the krogan's well-earned punishment Solus. You are in no position to even be suggesting curing it!" the Dalatrass shouted.  
>"In perfect position," Mordin countered. "Team lead on modification project, know most about effective delivery vectors, previous and new genophage target sites. Already previous evidence of krogan adapting, overcoming. Offer delivery of cure, and krogan will fight for galaxy, not just themselves."<br>"I for one will not authorise such a thing," Linron said angrily. "The krogan were our mistake, the genophage is our solution. We will save the galaxy without them, maybe the Reapers will do us a favour and hasten their extinction."  
>"While your position on the krogan is well-known Dalatrass, it is not the only position," Andross countered calmly. "You may have the loudest opinion for now, but there are enough of us who aren't so completely prideful, and suicidal, in thinking that the krogan not fighting the Reapers will do anything but lead us to ruin." Linron looked scandalised and about ready to rant again, but Andross cut her off.<p>

"I have the backing of enough of your rivals to ensure that not only will Professor Solus be granted his request, but we'll be waiting for the moment when your stupidity is revealed and then we'll be able to move in and replace you." Linron was enraged, but knew when to back down from a fight she wouldn't win. It was the salarian way after all, and information was most certainly power. She would have to wait until another time to get this insurrectionist movement crushed, along with the krogan. She stood calmly, and left, leaving Solus to muck around with Mirrahe and Andross while she moved pieces in her galactic web.

"You'll be pleasantly surprised to know Professor, that there was an STG ship on Tuchanka at the same time you were, with similar goals," Andross said.  
>"Rescue Maelon, or destroy data?" Mordin asked.<br>"Both were objectives," the commordore replied. "However, the mission parameters changed when we came across a group of krogan volunteers from his project. They were too weak to make it back to their own camps, and we ran the risk of discovery if we left them. However, we discovered something remarkable, they are on their way to being cured of the genophage, though their bodies are significantly weakened. With your assistance, we may be able to stabilise them and synthesise a cure."  
>"Must work on this project Commodore," Mordin said quickly.<br>"That almost sounded personal there Professor," Kirrahe said, speaking for the first time.  
>"Not denying personal stake in project success. Fate of galaxy could hinge on success or failure of this project," Mordin said ominously. He closed his eyes, his mind working at its own feverish pace for a moment before he opened them and gave his final reason for wanting this so badly.<p>

"Has to be me, someone else might get it wrong."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yes, I used the line. **

**I always loved Mordin as a character. The way he talked, like he didn't have time to waste on the little things, like there was better things he could be doing, more people he could be helping.**


End file.
